Three years later . . . .
The sun-baked bricks against which Fenris rested were still warm even as the sun dipped toward the horizon, leaving the alley in shade. Unfortunately, even the shadows provided little respite from the Antivan summer heat, and Fenris lifted the braid at his neck to allow some air to reach his sweat-soaked skin. He found the lengthy hair a nuisance at times like this, but Zevran's taste prevailed. The assassin dearly loved running the long, silver strands through his fingers. Even Zevran's praise was not enough to convince Fenris to grow it any further than his shoulder blades, however. Some limits could not be pushed.
A woman dressed in bright silks of crimson and gold passed the entrance to the alley, offering Fenris a shy smile. He nodded politely, relieved when she moved on. In the three years since he had accompanied Zevran back to Antiva, they had achieved an uncomfortable notoriety. Within the first year, four Crow masters had perished, their cells thrown into chaos. Already burdened with a rebellious Antivan prince, the Guild withdrew their contracts on Zevran and offered him his own cell in exchange for assistance in quelling the problematic royals. Zevran not only refused, he made a name for Fenris and himself by accepting difficult contracts and fulfilling them with the utmost discretion. They maintained a lucrative business as both assassins and mercenaries.
Not only were they famous for achieving desired results quickly and efficiently, their relationship fueled the steamy hotbeds of gossip for which Antiva City was so well known. Time and again, adventurous men and women had approached the couple in hopes of sharing their bed, only to receive a venomous glare from Fenris and a polite refusal from Zevran. Even long-time acquaintances of Zevran failed to infiltrate the upscale harbor apartment in which the elves dwelled.
If Zevran regretted monogamy, he never gave an indication. Indeed, as the years passed, their mutual desire only increased. Even now, thinking of the things he and Zevran had done both within the bedroom and without . . . . Heat flushed his skin, and Fenris was grateful Zevran was nowhere near to comment on it. He took a deep breath, carefully erasing certain images from his mind before a certain bulge could give him away.
Of course, Zevran chose that moment to appear from the dimness of the alley. He looked resplendent in his new armor of gold and green, fashioned from the finest Antivan leather and drakeskin. Against Fenris's objections, Zevran had also purchased him a new outfit of silverite and white steel, burnished a regal midnight black to offset Fenris's white hair. Boots required quite a bit more persuasion, but even Fenris could not deny their usefulness in cold, rocky terrain.
"I apologize for the delay, mi amor," said Zevran, approaching Fenris with a smile. Fenris could tell immediately from Zevran's relaxed posture that the meeting had gone well. Indeed, the extended kiss he received gave him all the proof he needed.
"We have another contract?" So much for diminishing the pressure in his pants . . . .
Zevran lifted his ponytail briefly to cool his neck, and Fenris's gaze fell on the red bracelet circling the tanned wrist. Intricate strips of leather, dyed a bright red, were woven into a tight braid. Gold clasps fastened the ends together in a perfect fit. Fenris wore an identical bracelet on the same wrist. Zevran had presented him with the bracelets on their one-year anniversary in Antiva. No ceremony accompanied the gift, but none was needed. Even Fenris, pragmatic to the core, understood the symbol for what it was.
On a rare impulse, he grabbed Zevran's wrist, pressing his lips to the smooth skin just above the bracelet. Zevran's eyes widened, but never one to lose an opportunity, he pulled Fenris into a much longer kiss, uncaring of the stares they received from passers-by. Indeed, anything was worth getting Fenris into such a state, breaths uneven, and hands trembling with want. When they finally pulled apart, he admired his lover's swollen lips with satisfaction. Fenris might be the dominant one, but Zevran loved leaving his mark for all to see.
"We have been hired for quite a lucrative job, Leto. One for which we must leave Antiva, I'm afraid."
Fenris adjusted his trousers, ignoring Zevran's lascivious smirk. "We have not travelled in some time. A vacation is in order."
"Quite." Zevran led the way out of the alley and into a busy street in the market. "How about a visit with some friends?"
"What is the contract?"
"Ah . . . you would never guess." Zevran turned around, continuing to walk backward so that he could watch Fenris's reaction. "We have been asked to assassinate Marian Hawke and her renegade lover, Anders."
Fenris stopped dead in the street, narrowing his eyes. "And you said no, of course."
Zevran grinned. "I said yes, of course!"
Fenris crossed his arms, regarding his heart and home with a lifted eyebrow. Zevran's smile softened and he moved closer, tickling Fenris's ear with his whisper.
"If we accept the contract, they will not hire another to pursue Hawke. Not until we have the chance to find and warn her."
Fenris nodded and resumed walking, Zevran at his side. "Then we pack tonight and leave in the morning?"
"Sì. Our benefactors have kindly bought our passage on a ship."
"Do we even know where Hawke is now?"
Zevran smiled over at the other elf, admiring the way the setting sun set the silver hair afire. Tonight, they would pack . . . after indulging in more pleasant activities. It might be quite some time before they would again enjoy a proper bed, after all. Fenris glanced sideways at him, flushing at the hunger in Zevran's eyes. His discomfort only broadened the assassin's grin. So far have we come, my dangerous wolf and I. He regretted nothing.
Looping his arm through Fenris's, Zevran guided him onto the meandering road leading to the harbor and their apartment.
"Hawke has been very skilled at keeping her location a secret, but our contractors have discovered the country she currently inhabits."
The sun fell below the horizon at last, sending out a last shimmer of purple across the darkening sky. The dying light glowed in emerald depths as Fenris turned a curious eye to Zevran. The assassin patted his arm affectionately.
"Mi querido, have you ever been to Ferelden?"
And so we reach the end. I loved writing this story, and I hoped you enjoyed reading it! Many thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, or followed this. Extra special hugs go to Zevgirl for her encouragement and excellent beta abilities! Thanks everyone!
